It took weeks for him to understand.
He couldn't speak.
Could barely move.
But he could think.
Too clearly.
This wasn't a dream.
This wasn't a hallucination.
He remembered his old life—
a small apartment,
a boring job,
late nights scrolling through fiction and anime,
thinking how fictional heroes felt more real than the world he lived in.
And now—
Pink hair.
Blue eyes.
Chakra.
I'm… Boruto Uzumaki, he realized one night, staring at the ceiling from a crib he shouldn't have been able to recognize.
I'm the son of Naruto and Sakura.
The thought should have been absurd.
Instead, it was terrifying.